


Don't Go Bacon My Heart

by orphan_account



Category: Love Island (Video Game)
Genre: And his dumb pun cooking aprons, F/M, Fluff, I stg I'm so soft for this man, Just goofy and soft tbh, Like the most fluff ever, So have a product of my overwhelming love for this pixelated man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-10-04 02:13:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20463329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Lets be honest, MC and Bobby are the King and Queen of domestic fluff and love, and I can 1000% imagine Bobby packing more pun related cooking aprons than actual clothes. Aka what I based this fic around.There's not necessarily any plot, it's just a cute little drabble of a morning I'd love imagine happened in the Villa!





	Don't Go Bacon My Heart

** __ ** __

Yet another morning in paradise, and once again you’re awake before everyone else. You huff out a quick breath as you slowly sit up, trying to rid the last remnants of sleep from your surprisingly refreshed body. To be honest, you’re feeling grateful that it’s still dark in the bedroom, you can’t even describe how awful it is to be torn from sleep by the neon strip lights that line the ceiling.

By instinct, your hand reaches out to the left, attempting to sought out Bobby beside you, but when said hand falls through the duvet and hits the mattress, you finally realise that you definitely aren’t the first to wake. A confused hum sounds from your mouth, deciding to slide out of bed and head to the kitchen, knowing this was the most likely place to find him.

As soon as you open the door outside you know you predicted correctly, the smell of a full English breakfast confirming your suspicions. You peer around the corner and try your best not to laugh, because there in the kitchen is Bobby, dressed only in his cake print boxers and an apron that reads, “Don’t go Bacon my heart”. That wasn’t the best part though, no, he’s currently attempting to twerk as he fries some bacon and sausages, singing what sounds like “Wannabe” by the Spice Girls (Ever since Chelsea brought it up, it’s been stuck in everyone’s head).

Part of you is so tempted to grab your phone and film it, but another wants to keep this moment all to yourself (Well, you and the millions of people watching at home that is). You know you have to make your presence known at some point though , so you take a breath, and get your best David Attenborough impression at the ready.

“And here you see the ancient Scottish courtship ritual, this male will continue this display until he attracts the attention of a nearby female, he could be waiting for days, even months for a potential partner.”

Without hesitation, Bobby immediately plays into your joke, continuing to perform a number of… questionable dance moves as he begins to move towards you.

“He seems to have found a female, now he must play the waiting game to see if she will accept, or reject his proposal.” You try your best to keep up the accent, but the more you speak, the harder it becomes to contain your laughter, only finding it funnier that Bobby looks like he’s about to crack too.

You dramatically turn your whole body in the opposite direction of him, folding your arms across your chest in rejection as he cracks out the worst orange justice you’ve even seen.

“Ah, it seems as though the female was not impressed by his pop culture references, he must spend the rest of the day wallowing in his rejection.” You finally crack at Bobby’s incredibly accurate Attenborough voice, turning to face him as you clutch at your stomach in hysterics.

“Ahh, not going to lie Lass, that rejection stung.” Bobby feigns hurt as he clutches at his heart and gives you his best puppy dog eyes, “Was it something I said?”

You smile and wrap your hands around his neck, “To be honest it was all going amazingly until you pulled out the last dance move, biggest turn off ever.” He pretends to look deep in thought before murmuring, “Strange, never heard any complaints before.” You simply shake your head, that ever-fond smile that he always brings out still present on your lips.

Suddenly his eyes go wide as he rips himself from your grasp and runs to the stove, expletives like “Fuck!” and “Shit, not the bacon!” flying from his mouth. You descent into yet another round of laughter, making sure to wolf whistle loudly when he bends over to open the oven (to which he immediately responds with a wink).

Thankfully, no breakfast was harmed in the making of your mockcumentary, and after everything was placed safely on a low heat as to not go cold, he finally pulls you back into his arms and immediately buries his head into your neck.

“Hi.” You mumble softly into his hair, your fingers tracing soft shapes on his skin. The only response you get is a muffled “Hey”, before he lifts up his head and gently kisses your nose.

“Boop.” You raise an eyebrow, trying hard not to show just how cute you found the action, “Do boops count if they’re done with one’s mouth?” He gasps as though you’ve just committed the most heinous crime,

“How dare you question the legitimateness of my boop. The art of the boop has been passed down my family for generations.” You do your best to keep your expression a serious one,

“Well in that case, to honour the tradition of the boop, and to apologize deeply for the insensitive comments I made, I must now mouth boop every freckle on your face.” You don’t give him a second to react before you start your mission, littering his cheeks and nose with as many kisses as possible.

“Oh my god, this might be the grossest thing I’ve ever interrupted, and trust me, that’s saying a lot.” You both startle at the sound of Lottie’s voice,

“Babes don’t be so mean! They looked so cute and domestic!” Chelsea coos at you both as if the two of you are toddlers, walking up to you and pinching your cheek between her manicured fingers. You wince as she pinches a bit too hard, long nails pressing into the sensitive skin of your face.

“Oops! Sorry.” She giggles, all you can do is sigh and rub your cheek, “All I do is get abused in this household, honestly.” Bobby grins and leans in to kiss the spot where Chelsea’s nails had been just moments ago.

“Did I kiss the booboo better?” He talks whilst pouting, resembling the way one would speak to a baby. You simply grumble in response and hope no one notices the blush climbing from your neck to your cheeks.

“Oi, Bob, was the majority of your case filled with aprons with shitty puns on?” Your moment is once again interrupted as Gary walks out of the bedroom; his arms stacked full of what appears to be the aforementioned cooking garments. Bobby’s face lights up at the sight of them.

“What’s wrong with a good pun?” He smirks, pointing down to the one he’s currently adorning, “I think they’re sick. Look, the one I’ve got on even has a matching one, I’ve been meaning to give it to someone, actually.” He murmurs bashfully as he rummages through the pile to pull out an apron of the same colour. He holds it up next to his so everyone can read it, and immediately you know it’s a cooking pun version of “Don’t Go Breaking My Heart” by Elton John. Bobby throws you the apron, and dramatically sings,

“Don’t go bacon my heart!” And without even a moments hesitation, you match his energy as you tie the apron around your waist and reply,

“I wouldn’t if I fried!”

The other islanders let out an antagonising groan, but you’re too busy drowning in your affection for the man standing in front of you to even care.

The rest of the morning is filled with you and Bobby throwing food related puns at each other until Gary threatens to unceremoniously throw you both into the pool.

So, another completely normal morning in paradise then!


End file.
